


Angel Juice

by misbegotten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is damn near ready to pull an intervention -- he is not above using Castiel's influence if need be -- because Sam spends way too much time a little buzzed these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Juice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted May 9, 2010. Just archiving some old fic.

Dean prefers beer. Or Jack. Or anything that's not a purple nurple (he totally blames the Trickster for that).

Gabriel, on the other hand, seems to like anything sweet. Big surprise. And he particularly seems to like plying Sam with booze -- Bailey's, rum, liqueurs. Dean's not inclined to complain, because liquored up Sammy is happy Sammy, and that's hard to come by some days, even with the Apocalypse behind them. Sam still pulls a mean bitchface and argues like he has a stick up his ass. But on the whole everyone's happier, particularly with a drink or three in hand.

But Dean is damn near ready to pull an intervention -- he is not above using Castiel's influence if need be -- because Sam spends way too much time a little buzzed these days.

"Dude," he says one evening. He clears his throat noisily; Sam and Gabriel are doing their best to ignore him. They're wrapped around each other, snuggling on the couch, a two-headed, four-legged monstrosity of archangel and Winchester, and Sam's got his nose buried in Gabriel's throat. "Dude, if your tongue comes out of your mouth, I'm cutting it off."

They look up at him -- Sam blearily, Gabriel irritated -- and Gabriel arches an eyebrow. "What's up, dude?"

"Can I talk to you alone?" Dean asks Gabriel.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Somehow I doubt it will be worth my while."

Dean rubs a hand over his face. Sam looks at him briefly, goggle-eyed, before turning his gaze back to Gabriel's neck and licking his lips. He looks like a huge dog eyeing a mouth-watering bone.

"Two days and I won't say anything about your disgusting PDA."

Gabriel smirks. "A week."

"Three days," Dean counters. "And that's pushing it."

Gabriel's smirk broadens into a grin and he snaps his fingers. Sam is suddenly curled comfortably on the couch, asleep.

"I'm seriously worried about Sam," Dean starts.

A flash of uncertainty, maybe actual goddamn worry, passes over Gabriel's face for an instant. Dean thinks. Maybe he's imagining it.

"What bee is in your bonnet?" Gabriel asks smoothly.

"The booze, man." Dean soldiers on, knowing that any sort of intervention with Sam is going to have to involve Gabriel. "Sam's toasted all the time. I think he needs help."

Gabriel bursts out laughing. Big, belly laughs, and Dean starts to get pissed off. "Never mind," Dean huffs. "I should have known it was pointless to talk to you."

Gabriel gets this look on his face that Dean can't quite decipher, but he holds up a hand to Dean. "Wait. It's just--" Gabriel shakes his head and wipes a tear from his eye. "You guys really look out for each other, I'll give you that." Gabriel casts a glance at the sleeping figure on the couch. "You don't have anything to worry about. Sam usually has one drink. Two tops."

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. "He's halfway to wasted every night."

Gabriel rubs his thumb and forefinger together. "Trickster magic," he says succinctly. "I, let's say, enhance the alcohol's effects. No harm done to Sam's delicate system."

Sam's jonesing on angel juice. Oh, that's just perfect. "Why?" Dean demands.

If Dean didn't know better, he'd say that Gabriel looks abashed. But the archangel has no shame, so that can't be it.

"It makes him happy."

Dean looks incredulous.

Gabriel huffs. "It makes him shflngy." The last word is muttered and completely incomprehensible to Dean.

"What?" he demands.

"Cuddly!" Gabriel says loudly. He looks horrified that the word has come out of his mouth.

Dean's smirk outshines the archangel's standard look. "You wanna get cuddly with Sam, and you think you have to get him drunk to do it?" Dean guffaws as Gabriel glares. "Dude, Sam is a total cuddle slut. You don't have to get him buzzed." He refuses to discuss how he knows Sam's cuddling tendencies. There's a reason they always spring for separate beds.

Gabriel's expression softens. "Thanks, Dean. I'm really glad we had this talk."

"No problem, man." Dean puts a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "Just lay off the jungle juice, okay?"

"You got it," Gabriel says with a broad smile. "Is it still okay if we have wild monkey sex, Dad?"

Dean groans. "So not cool."


End file.
